Chapter Text
“You really expect me to believe that you weren’t hurt by a rival gang that had every reason to kill you?
Jason released a very heartfelt groan. He kept it quiet, though, because Damian had nodded off on the couch after a whole afternoon of researching the origins of Christmas. He had eventually conceded that a holiday for celebrating family, friends, and warmth in the midst of winter was acceptable, but he still couldn’t find any reason for there to be so many bright lights on display, which had been his primary objective. Still unsatisfied with the feeble explanations for this custom on the (parental controlled) websites online, he’d finally drifted off. “Will you drop it already?”
“No, I will not drop it,” Dick hissed aggressively, rooting around in the fridge for anything that, in his words, could be “whipped into a Christmas Eve feast”. “My little brother almost died. AGAIN. Ask me why that’s not okay, Jason. Ask.”
Jason scrubbed at his burning eyes. Dick had only left him alone for one day before swooping back in with mother-henning instincts ablaze, and that was not enough time for the effects of the Pit, even from three tablespoons of stale Lazarus water that had probably lost most of its potency, to fade away. His eyes were still glowing at the slightest agitation; there was no way Dick hadn’t noticed. (Would knowing be such a bad thing? Eight heads in a duffel bag, which Jason couldn’t even remember, was objectively much worse than healing one’s wound with supernatural substances prone to over-emotional outbursts as a side effect---)
“I’m just worried,” Dick continued in a slightly softer tone, resting his hand on Jason’s shoulder. (It took everything he had to keep from flinching.) “You barely had a scratch when we found you, but that was not NOT a big deal.”
“You didn’t annoy your friend like this,” Jason grumbled between his teeth, but he wasn’t mad, not really. He was just… jumpy. Sure, they’d moved safehouses to something slightly less drafty (and definitely harder to track since there was at least one Bat left who didn’t know he existed), but still.
“Roy may be an on-again-off-again bestie, but he’s not my little brother,” Dick grumbled back. “Who DIED, by the way.”
“I know,” Jason shot back. “I was there.”
“It’s just worth pointing out.”
“Dick, I promise you, I am fine. Just…” Jason trailed off, snapping his gaze towards the living room. He thought he’d heard--- There it was again. Whimpering.
“sh*t,” he whispered emphatically, slipping to the couch. Damian’s unconscious face was scrunched in distress, sweat beading his pale forehead. “Habibi. Habibi, wake up; we’re---”
Damian shot awake like a rocket, scrambling for the windows; Jason had to grab him around the waist to keep the kid’s head from colliding with the floor. The thrashing stuttered to a halt as soon as Damian realized who was holding him. He switched tack, burying himself in Jason’s arms as he shuddered with the sobs he tried to keep silent.
Jason’s eyes burned. “I’m here, habibi. I’m here.”
“Akhi,” Damian whisper-screamed. His entire body heaved for breath like he’d just run a---
Or been drowned.
Jason forced himself not to squeeze too tightly, peppering kisses to Damian’s hair in lieu of the fluent curses his brain was composing in the background. “I’m here now, habibi; you’re safe, you’re safe.”
“I couldn’t,” Damian babbled in Arabic between shallow gasps. “I couldn’t breathe, why… Why would they refuse me breath? I couldn’t… I couldn’t… an-answer their qu-questions. Why… Why…”
Jason gathered Damian into his arms, standing up, and ignored his worried older brother on their way to the bathroom. He left the door open since that was literally the only exit, plugging the tub before turning on the hot water. Then he waited, rubbing circles into his kiddo’s back. The audacity… the nerve… the cruelty…
“I couldn’t breathe,” Damian continued to babble between his cries.
“You can breathe NOW,” Jason reminded him. He pulled back to cup his hand around Damian’s head, holding him steady, and blew on his tear-streaked face. “Match my breaths.”
Damian, eyes scrunched shut, tried to obey. His frantic breathing reliably started to slow under Jason’s other hand, his tiny ribcage expanding to accommodate. Jason continued rubbing Dami’s back until the water was a few inches deep, then got on his knees by the tub, propping the kiddo on one knee. “Can you open your eyes for me, habibi?”
Damian cracked one eye open, then the other. He clutched tighter to Jason’s arm when he realized what he was looking at. “Ak… Akhi?”
“I’ve got you,” Jason reassured firmly, securing his hold. “I’m not letting you go. See the water? It’s warm. Could you touch it for me?”
Damian sniffled messily, reaching over to pat his tiny little hand in the water. Ripples lapped against the worn paint.
“See?” Jason whispered into Damian’s hair. He brushed his fingers across the kiddo’s sweaty forehead. “The water’s there, and you’re up here. Two completely separate things. Deep breaths now.”
It was easier for Damian to obey this time. He patted the water again before hiding his face against Jason’s neck. Bashful, no doubt. Embarrassment was better than panic, Jason thought, slumping tiredly against the side of the tub. He’d take it.
“Where is Julius?” Damian finally whispered.
Jason grimaced over Damian’s head. “He’s in the washing machine, bud. You got tomato sauce on him last night, remember?”
“Oh.” Damian curled a little tighter. “Yes… That is alright. I… I do not need…”
“Here,” Dick broke in. Jason turned a glare on the doorway, but Dick returned it in full force before advancing, heedless of the danger of doing so. “I’ve got something for you, kiddo.”
Damian raised his head enough to peer over Jason’s shoulder, still sniffling up the last of his tears. His eyes grew impossibly big when Dick presented a worn stuffed elephant. Jason forgot to be irritated in his surprise. He knew that stuffed animal…
“Her name is Zitka,” Dick said softly, plopping down criss-cross. “When I was your age, I lived in the circus with my parents; an international show filled with incredibly talented people. Ladies that stood on horse’s backs, firebreathers, contortionists, even animals like this one. Zitka was a real live elephant. I did tricks with her sometimes.”
Damian smiled shyly as Dick used Zitka’s felt trunk to dry the tear tracks on his cheeks. “What happened to her?”
“After my parents died, Bruce took me in.” Dick glanced at Jason, briefly asking permission to continue. Jason managed a tiny nod. NOW he asks? “Bruce didn’t really have room for an elephant right then, and besides, Zitka was happy in the circus, so I had to leave her behind. He bought this stuffie for me to remember her by. She’s very special to me, but I know you’ll take good care of her. Maybe she can be friends with Julius.”
Damian reverently hugged the elephant to his chest. “I… I shall. What did you do?”
Dick’s smile widened, sparkling eyes only for the child in Jason’s lap. “I worked on the flying trapeze. Imagine a few swings high in the air, faaaaar above the ground. My job was to learn to get from one to the other with as many flippy tricks as possible.”
“You FLEW?”
“In a way.”
“You didn’t fall?”
“Sometimes. I practiced with a net until I was old enough to fall without hurting myself. First one way…” Dick demonstrated with his hands. “… then the other… and in the middle…”
Jason was startled from his sappy grin by a sharp rap on the front door. His heart skipped a beat. “I’ll get it.”
Damian willingly allowed himself to be dropped into Dick’s lap, enamored now with tales of circus acts from the olden days. Jason grabbed a pistol on his way to the door, trying stubbornly to ignore the raised hairs on the back of his neck. Surely it wasn’t… Surely. Who else knew they even lived here? Tim wouldn’t bother with the door… and that Arsenal character didn’t know their location… and neither did Spoiler… so who else…?
One look through the peephole was enough to suck all remaining oxygen from his lungs.Shout through the door. Disguise your voice. Confront Dick. DON’T OPEN TH---
He flung the door open, all other options deserting him. “Alfie.”
Alfred Pennyworth dropped two armfuls of packages, stepped over the threshold, and enveloped Jason in a desperate warmth. Jason clutched blindly at the butler’s perfect suit. Was this ACTUALLY happening? He was sick. He was hallucinating. He was imagining his wildest---
“My dear boy,” Alfred murmured tremulously. “Welcome.”
Jason’s self-control burst into tears.
“I don’t understand.”
Alfred stirred one of the many pots now on the kitchen stove, tasted it, and wiped his floury hands on the apron he’d donned that read “Yes Chef”. The smile he bestowed upon Jason, a little more wrinkled, but painfully familiar, was enough to make him feel like crying all over again. “What’s not to understand, lad?”
“I told Dick not…” Jason cleared his thick throat. He wasn’t doing a very good job at staying objective right now. Dick was still holed up in the bathroom with Damian. No one to yell at. No one to direct his overwhelming emotion towards. No one to turn his smarting hurt into anger. Just… Just Alfred.
“Master Dick has revealed nothing,” Alfred stated firmly in the silence that followed. “Nor has anyone else who may know of your existence here, which I assume is a bigger party than I had first anticipated. I must admit some shame in piecing the puzzle so late, but it couldn’t be helped. Your brothers are fantastic secret keepers.”
Jason blinked rapidly, then scrubbed his damp eyes on his hoodie sleeve. “You figured it out all on your own?”
“Master Tim slipped into suspicious territory exactly once during passing conversation with me, but yes.” Alfred slid a steaming mug of tea across the island. It was the Wonder Woman mug, the one with the chip in the rim. Dick carried it around every time they moved safehouses. (Jason didn’t know how to feel about that.) “Don’t insult me. I’ve been in the business of other people’s dirty laundry since before your father was in diapers. Finding the clues, once I knew to look, was child’s play.”
Jason sipped the tea exactly once before having to set it down. H e couldn’t breathe . The nostalgia was slapping him right across the face. It was exactly right; o nly Alfred made it this perfectly. Only Alfred…
“ Oh, lad,” Alfred murmured distantly, and there he suddenly was, cradling Jason’s head to his apron-clad chest. “Pray, don’t cry. We have much to celebrate.”
“Why are you here?” Jason croaked between shaky breaths, trying his hardest not to sob aloud. He wrapped an arm around the butler’s waist, squeezing. Alfred barely reached his chin standing up. “I’m not… I’m not the boy you lost. I’ve done terrible… horrible things. I…”
“What, like surviving?” Alfred murmured thickly. “Like fighting your way home? I’ve seen those eyes in others, lad. You’ve been in the Pits. You’ve also no doubt taken your father’s vision into your own hands. I do not lament the Hood’s actions in this city. I do not lament your murderer’s death.”
“I didn’t kill him,” Jason denied stuffily, hiding his face against Alfred’s apron pocket. “I wanted to.”
“As did I.” Alfred combed Jason’s white hair back from his forehead. Then, unexpectedly, a kiss landed there. “You are not evil, my boy. You are broken. I’ve seen a lot of broken young men in my day. None of them possessed the malice to become truly wicked.”
“ I missed you,” Jason whispered hoarsely. sh*t, he was crying again. “I missed you so much . I---”
“Akhi?” a childish voice interrupted.
Jason whirled around on the bar stool. Damian stood in the doorway in his tiger PJs, arms full of Zitka. Dick stood behind him with the look of a dog that knew when he was in trouble. Escaped me I wasn’t looking, he signed. Sorry.
Jason raised hesitant eyes to Alfred’s pale face. “I can explain.”
“My oh my,” Alfred marveled faintly. “Hello, young lad.”
“Hello,” Damian greeted solemnly, padding to Jason’s side. He lifted his little chin. “Who are you, please? What have you done to my Akhi?”
Jason bit his inner cheek, torn between hysterical laughter and more tears. “Dami, this is Alfred Pennyworth. He’s…”
“I,” Alfred said regally, collecting himself enough to offer a handshake. “am your brother’s paternal grandfather. Lovely to make your acquaintance.”
Dick choked at the same time Jason did. Damian, eyes full of suspicious judgment, didn’t seem to notice. “You seem much kinder than my grandfather at least. You are to join us for these Christmas celebrations?”
“Indeed. A time for family, is it not?”
“Yes, just so. I expect you to cease whatever actions have made Akhi cry.”
“Oh, but these are good tears, lad.” Alfred passed his hand once more over Jason’s hair, dissolving whatever stoicism Jason had managed to rally in the interim. He felt like a kid again. (He felt like family again.) “May I inquire as to your name?”
Damian glanced uncertainly at Jason. Ah, what the hell. Jason gave him a nod. “I am Damian Al Ghul, soon to be Damian Wayne, Son of The Bat and late heir to the League of Shadows.”
Alfred, to his credit, barely flinched. Only his eyes held the tearful wave of emotion that he managed to keep from his mustached face. “An honor, my dear sir. If you will so permit, I will continue preparing our Christmas Eve feast. You may supervise, of course.”
“Do,” Damian allowed politely, clambering into Jason’s lap. Jason squeezed him, savoring the stout warmth. “Akhi deserves only the best.”
“That,” Alfred rejoined emphatically. “is an ideology with which I wholeheartedly agree.”
“ I can explain,” Jason offered again in the peaceful silence that followed a hearty meal. No one had spoken until now. It had been enough to exist, to cook and bake and eat warm food in each other’s presence. It was like nothing had changed; everything down to the no-weapons-on-the-table rule that he was still, even a head taller, too cowardly to dis obey.
“As far as I am concerned, Master Jason,” Alfred informed him, speaking quietly so as not to wake the boy nodding off into his pudding. “there is no explanation needed.”
Jason lifted Damian from his seat, pillowing his little brother’s head on his shoulder. Damian snuffled sleepily, getting comfortable before drifting into deeper dreams free of nightmares. “It’s just… so much has happened.”
“And should you want to share that journey,” Alfred intoned gently, rising from his seat to begin disposing of dirty dishes. “that journey to which I am owed no explanation, no closure, I will be a rapt audience. Not a very happy one, perhaps, but intentional nonetheless.”
Jason swallowed the self-deprecating words that threatened to spill from his lips. This was a happy dream. He didn’t want to ruin it by chasing Alfred away from them before it was time. “I don’t know how to… to thank…”
“Hush,” Alfred chided him, rolling up his sleeves. “No thanks is needed. Being in your presence for just one moment more has been worth, until now, both my legs. Feeding hungry lads was the least I was able to do.”
Jason swayed from side to side, watching idly as Dick got up to help with the dishes. Everyone moved slowly, comfortably, and the soft sound of a YouTube video filled the background with Christmas jazz, a crackling fireplace, and snow. Flurries, real ones, drifted past the kitchen window, and the air still smelled of pie. Everything was too full for worry, for the rough violent memories that had brought Jason from the Himalayas to New York. Yet… something was owed. An olive branch. An explanation. Something… small. “Dick? Thanks for Zitka.”
Dick raised a sleepy smile, drying the dishes Alfred sent his way. “No one should wake up from nightmares stuffed animalless. What did the little guy dream about?”
Jason checked Damian’s breathing to be certain of his unconsciousness. “I’ll… spare you the details. During our plans for escape, they began to suspect us. I’m not sure how.”
Alfred’s hands tightened on the sponge, leaking sudsy bubbles. Dick’s jaw set. “They hurt him.”
“He almost drowned.” Jason swallowed thickly. He hadn’t meant to venture here. This territory seemed forbidden on such a night. “He held strong. I was so proud of him. I still am.”
Alfred raised a stern eyebrow. Something… inhuman… passed over his wrinkled face. “They are now beyond suffering, I presume?”
A feral grin crept onto Jason’s face. “Yeah.”
“Hm. A pity.”
Dick offered a sad smirk. “You’re safe now, Jay.”
“I know.” Jason secured his hold on Damian, listening intently to the soft, shallow breaths. “I made sure of it.”
“If I may be so bold as to suggest,” Alfred put in, raising that piercing look to Jason’s face. “You are not alone anymore, lad. Either of you. I only ask that you consider it.”
Jason closed his burning eyes, swaying from foot to foot, side to side. Damian’s weight on his chest, his shoulder, was more grounding than he’d intended. He had no choice but to nod. What does it mean not to be alone? I don’t deserve help. I’m just protecting what’s mine…
Jason held his entire world in his arms. Maybe… for Damian’s sake. Maybe.
Dick’s touch suddenly wrapped around his shoulders, squeezing. “Let’s get you two in bed. You’re one an’ a half seconds from passing out.”
“Food coma,” Jason grunted back, trying to find a plausible excuse for the intense peace saturating every corner of his sh*tty apartment. “Y’ be okay, Alf?”
“Petty cleanup compared to a charity ball, Master Jason. I shall fare delightfully. Will you want me locking the door on my way out?”
Jason cracked his eyes open, breathlessly toeing the self-imposed line. “There’s a house key under the bowl of fruit.”
The skin around Alfred’s eyes softened, wrinkling in a smile that didn’t touch his lips. “ Right ho lad. Have peaceful dreams.”
Slumping with intense emotional exhaustion, Jason trailed after his older brother. The bed had been adorned with fuzzy blankets that smelled like Wayne M anor, somehow, over the course of dinner, and flopping into them felt wonderfully cathartic. He bundled Damian to his chest, drinking in the sight of his baby’s relaxed face. Dick crawled in at his back, slinging an arm around them both. It was… warm. Safe. Yeah.
Dick sniffled loudly, prompting Jason to peer over his shoulder. “Y’ big baby.”
“I know.” Dick laughed tearfully, squishing impossibly closer to the cuddle pile. “It’s just so precious. I never thought I’d…”
Jason swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Yeah. I… Yeah.”
“I think you should do it.”
“No.”
“He’s the only one who doesn’t…”
“Don’t push your luck here, golden boy.” Jason nuzzled into Damian’s fuzzy hair, yawning hard enough to make his jaw pop. It smelled like home. All of it. “There’s… too much…”
“Okay.” Dick kissed the back of Jason’s head. “Get some sleep.”
“Mmm.”
“And Jay?”
“Mmm?”
“Merry Christmas.”
